Hail Mary
by Bloodyx3Massacre
Summary: Alchemist Registration Codes ARC has been implemented on the people of Amestris. Uprisings and rebellions spread across the land. Roy has become an enslaved military alchemist made to fight and with the People's Hero missing for six years things go wrong.
1. Introduction

Author's Note: So here's my long story. This is only the introduction, so comment a bunch. I want to see how many people actually want me to continue. If not many people like this, I'll just quit. Personally, I think it will be really good cause I haven't seen a story like it yet. Maybe there are, but I don't know of 'em.

It's a RoyxEd with a dash of Edx---. Mwhahaha! My secret!

Disclaimer: I don't own.

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Hail Mary

Introduction

"Come on, buddy. Pretend to look tall. The Field Marshal is coming." A blond male chattered frantically to the smaller black haired male. He hefted up the smaller man from under his shoulders and propped him up on unsteady legs. The blond continued his chattering as he wiped blood from the other man's cheek and then fixing the man's collar of his jacket. Blood soaked the once pristine azure jacket in patches that the both men donned.

"I'm good, Havoc." A carbon colored eye gazed steadily even with his unresponsive legs. He gave an irritable grunt as he heaved forward to stand firmly on his feet. He heels of his boots stood fixed in their place among the dirt and he straightened up, trying to shake off the lines of exhaustion. "How is Fuery holding?"

"Take a few days to regain the sight in both eyes, but the damage is only temporary. Besides, we only need one pirate here." Havoc gave him a good natured laugh until a small whistle sounded not too far away. Quickly, he took up his spot besides his commanding officer and gave a salute to the Field Marshal approaching.

"There you are, Mustang. I was wondering where you might have run off to, my little friend." The lean man sauntered over. His steel blue eyes shined sinisterly. Patches of light brown dotted the roots of his platinum blond. He had a very strong jaw with very fine, sharp points to his face. Almost six feet tall, the man was still very skinny and taunt.

"I've been cleaning this sector up of all chimeras, sir."

"Of course. Always the faithful one, aren't we, Mustang?" The man grinned broadly.

"Only following orders, Field Marshal Hildebrand." Roy tossed the man a stead salute before continuing, "If you don't have anything else to say, sir, I need to finish inspecting this sector."

Hildebrand could feel the uneasiness come off Mustang in waves which made the man give a feral grin. "Yes of course, Brigadier General Mustang. I will be seeing you back at camp." The man patted Roy's shoulder a little to firmly near a fresh cut and practically skipped through the debris and destruction.

Roy sighed and inwardly collapsed on himself. Signs of exhaustion took up the places where uneasiness once loomed. "Let's get moving, Havoc." He nimbly took a small path through a once large stone building that was now a silent hill of stones and wooden beams.

The military's alchemist force was again sent to another uprising town that refused to make their alchemist sign up in the new registration laws. Führer Hakuro had passed the Alchemist Registration Codes as soon as he obtained office. ARC required all performing alchemists to give all information about themselves to Central Archives. They were monitored, daily lives became headaches with snooping military personnel, and rights of personal business were stripped. The alchemists that had been dutifully 'signed, sold, and tagged' had to wear two small silver chains around their left wrist like that of a prisoner; one contained their name, and the other contained their identification number. Children even as young as five were tagged for performing even the most basic of alchemy, a simple folding of paper or the fixing of a tree. Many towns despised these new codes and refused to let their alchemists be punished this way for practicing their talents to help everyday life styles. Once the people refused to give up their alchemists, the military smoothly rolled in like a killing plague and took by force what was not rightfully theirs.

Roy carefully rolled his shoulders, looking over the devastation in his wake. So much destruction laid waste to another town. The people had been cattle herded into a nearby empty field and forced to stand there as the military alchemist moved in to surround and dominate the town's alchemists into surrendering or death. Absently, he rubbed the two delicate silver chains on his wrist, knowing the fate of those who surrendered. The military knowing every move he makes, every place he goes to, and every breath he took irked him to no end. His freedom was strangled with those two little chains. He had basically written his name in his own blood as he was forced by gun point to the ARC.

He idly looked over the scene before him, desperately taking a painstakingly small break from moving. He was on fire. Every muscle and tendon was sparking with agony. His blood roared with alchemy rebound. One more snap and everything would be blown right back into his face. Now that he was under ARC jurisdictions, he had been placed under Field Marshal Hildebrand's command. The man was a sick and twisted individual. He held neither remorse nor sympathy to any living thing. He purely lived purely for destruction and power. Hildebrand used Roy like a well-breed horse. Taking the reins of Roy's powers of flame and controlling him in the direction that pleased him most, not caring about the well being of Roy.

Roy gently rubbed his eye and tightened his eye patch. With a gruff growl, he launched himself down the rubble and into the alleys. The landscape reminded him so much of Ishbal. He wanted to scream and set flame to anything near him. He wouldn't mind letting his flames devour him hungrily. All in all, he was sick of this. Bloodshed and utter chaos based on something so basically illogical.

With a muffled grunt, he aimed his fingers to a nearby building that still stood among its fallen brethren. He crept to the side of a doorway. Just a few more buildings like this and this district would be done. A few long breaths and around the edge he flew, into the building. Quickly scanning the ruins of the store front, he looked for anything alive. That's when he saw the blue flash behind an overturned table. The building's walls gave a lurch and then buckled. It was a trap.

He skidded over broken glass and back out the front doorway. Running out of the debris field, the building imploded followed by the two closets buildings doing the same with more glowing blue lights. An array trap system was in play which meant any step could cause him his and anyone near their life. He back peddled a couple steps before he could sense the fire coming his way. A small trail of fire created a snaking pattern towards him, trying to go unnoticed. It flickered up towards a blackish-brown puddle before igniting into a spitting inferno. Roy instantly took hold of the flames, bending them to his will. His eyes locked into the direction they came from. Using the fire wall as cover, he darted towards the small hill it came from. Bursting from the fire, he readied himself to snap as soon as he laid eyes on his target, but he froze. Two small children lay shaking with fear behind the hill, ruffled and scared. A small boy lay protectively over his sister. Roy stood down, relaxing his pose. Bending down, he gently ran a hand over the boy's head. Two meek brown eyes looked up.

"It's alright." Roy soothed. Roy looked up to see a nearby forest on the outskirts of town. Commanding the flames to form a wall from city to forest, Roy gently pulled both children into his arms and stood. Checking to make sure the flames would not catch the woods on fire, he ambled his way over. Spotting a few towns people moving forward in the dense trees, spiked fear stammered his footsteps before continuing on. He gracefully gave the two small children to a woman in her mid-thirties, obviously their mother. "Get out of here quickly." He turned to the fire again, creating a long arching wall. "That will only stall them for awhile." He fumbled around, legs once more giving ready to collapse.

Many sets of eyes stared at him with disbelief and respect. "Are you the Flame Alchemist?" A voice spoke out.

Roy nodded. His calf muscles twitched from exhaustion. Scanning his eyes in the gloom from the canopy above, he could tell many of the citizens on the out most parts of town ran, taking refuge in the dense vegetation. "You should get out of here."

"You are our savior, sir. Thank you."

Roy smiled. Forcing one more burst of adrenaline through his system; he leaped back into the flames. Roy walked through the flames, forcing them to become part of his defensive shell. They spurted and sizzled all around him. He could hear shouts on the other side of wall and slowly started to dwindle away the flames. Like a phoenix reborn, the flames died around him. Nothing but charred ground stood in the way. "This district is clear." He looked up to enlisted soldiers approaching the freshly cleared land.

Roy slowly picked his path towards the familiar, dirty faces of Havoc and Hawkeye. Nodding, the two quietly followed him in the direction of the camp. He sighed and rolled his shoulders again. He still had a long ways to go before this day was over.

He gingerly sat on the small cot in his canvas tent. Paying close attention to the areas with blood, he pulled of his jacket, revealing his blood soaked white cotton shirt. Cuts grazed his skin. Havoc took a look out position while Hawkeye walked in after Mustang. "Sir, how do you feel?"

"I'm alive, aren't I?" He muttered more to himself than the lady in front of him. Calmly, he unbuttoned and shimmied off the shirt revealing layers upon layers of blood saddened bandages across his broad chest and abdomen.

Hawkeye nimbly started pulling off the bandages and running a cold, soaked wash rag over the wounds on his back. Long, narrow cuts dug into his firm back. He had been brutally whipped for insubordination towards Hildebrand. Hildebrand used him as a public display of discipline. The skin that had remained on his back was ragged and the edges of the wounds were thick. Once all the blood was washed away, the two set about putting on freshly retrieved bandages. After the bandages, a freshly cleaned cotton shirt and his sodden blue jacket were donned. He sighed out, knowing his legs would not support him long. Quickly replacing his bloody gloves, he leaned down and rubbed his calf muscles, feeling them scream. "Just a little more…"

With Hawkeye's help, he got to his feet. "We got company." Havoc's head popped in, motioning outside.

"Here we go." Roy schooled his face. Puffed out his chest and tipped his head back, he was once more defiant. Stepping into the sunlight outside, the Flame Alchemist stood tall yet beaten towards the lurking danger creeping forward.

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His eye's scanned over the ruined town from on top of the hill he stood. The billows of smoke poured up to the sky would soon block the sun. Gray eyes scanned unforgivably among the dots of blue that moved around below in the maze of canvas tents. He looked over to his two companions. One sat on the ground, trembling silently, while the other stood tall and grim. With a sigh, he leaned down and gently picked his brother up by the shoulder, and placed a hand on the other man's shoulder. "We should move. We got here late."

Nodding silently, the two younger men moved down the hill in the opposite direction of the town. His gray eyes scanned down once more before he too turned and moved silently.

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Cliff hanger!


	2. Of Fire and Horses

Author's Note: I got bunches of good reviews, so I am going to continue this story as long as I get more. Yes I know. I'm a greedy bitch. So a couple people asked about the gray eyed character. I left many hints in this chapter to who it is. It's up to you to figure it out. This is a bunch of fun, I must admit. And once you get to the second part where it's separated (after the Roy part), go play Chevelle's 'Jars'. I was listening to it while writing and it really fits the scene of the *censured due to spoilers*.

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Chapter 1:

Of Fire and Horses

Hildebrand stood smiling in front of the soldiers lined up in formation. Roll call was just completed and the troops awaited their new orders. The alchemists stood in the very front while regular soldiers were in the back. He sauntered up and down the line, taking inventory on his goods. Soldiers, to him, were just a name and a number. With ARC, that was literal. Even around his left wrist he bore two stainless steel chains. He was only one of a handful of high ranking alchemists left and he took great pride in that. Since he was a loyal follower of Hakuro, he was allowed to keep his position. Hell, he was the first alchemist to sign up for ARC.

The tired faces looked to him gloomily, which made him smile even more. He'd push all of them. Make them the best. Toughen them and break them down to their bare minimums just to reconstruct them in the name of ARC. They would become the protectors of ARC. There were a special few he took favor in though, those of the rarest breeds of alchemy. The people who controlled air were some of his favorite play toys: the best for cattle herding people into a group. He snorted, earth alchemy was so overrated. It was the most simplistic and basic alchemy of all, but nonetheless, very handy. Then there were the instant killers. Very clean and very swift, the water alchemists could freeze the blood of a person. It was so boring though. Neither bloodshed nor violence took place. Just a simple breath and that's it. No more life.

Then there are his favorites: the healers and the killers. The healers were like any type of doctor, suppose to do good, but could also cause some of the most painfully slow and tormenting, suffering onto a person. The diversity of their kind was also quite interesting. They could use plants or water. Plant users were more rare and harder to understand. They had more morals and stronger wills than the water users.

Then there are the killers. Metal and fire dominated this category, but both were extremely rare. Only about one out of over ten thousand alchemists was of this category. He didn't mean metal as in a combination of things in a rock in the earth. Oh no, no. He meant the types of metals in a human body. Being able to simply rearrange a few chemicals here and there and cause internal suffering. He could almost squeal. And of course, the fire alchemists were talented in killing. It made him grin and look down the line ahead.

His darling little Flame Alchemist who had so much spunk and pride in him; he'd have to destroy that. Bend him and twist him until he finally snapped. After all, Hildebrand himself was a metal alchemist. He had a slight advantage over the other man, both with talent and of course, rank. He took great pride in his second name: the Blood Saber Alchemist.

"The earth bound alchemists will rebuild the structures in the town tomorrow. Once complete, the town's people shall move back in after all of them have been given a thorough investigation. Everyone else may take the rest of the day to rest." The lines briskly gave him a salute, then scattered to their respectful bunks. He bounced off to find his new play toy. After all, having two killers in such a close proximity with such strong egos was very interesting.

* * *

Roy was tired. No, beyond tired. He was flat out exhausted. He knew that even if his life depended on it, he could not make even a spark. Roy had to use the last of his reserve to contain the fire back on the edge of town least the whole damn forest went up into cinders. Hawkeye had commanded him softly to return to his bunk while she went to find Charles.

Charles was a basic major, fresh out of the academy, but an excellent water healer. He could cure every type of large gash possible. It would still leave scars, but chances of infection were dwindled to zero and the oozing blood was stopped unless reopened. He normally remained back at camp to cure the injured from the field, but if the necessity arisen; he could instantly become a field medic and a fighter.

Roy slide onto the cot, looking over his hands. Fresh burns stood out on his pale skin. Today, it appeared that whoever made the chimeras was not even average. Messy last minute transmutations were signs of quick protection methods. These people were not a threat. They were not mentally unstable or violently rebellious. They were just a normal community trying to live their life peacefully with the aid of simple alchemy. It bugged him to no end. It was Ishbal again. This time though, he was one eyed, without his best friend, tagged, and without any military power. Maybe he should check to see if Hakuro was a homunculus. Hmm… Charred, or broiled?

The tent flaps lifted and in came a pudgy, but muscular man with shaved brown hair. He had large brown eyes and freckles dotting his cheeks. In his hands were a first aid kit and a canteen of water. He quickly looked over Roy's figure, and then turned to the first aid kit. Setting it on the ground, he quickly uncapped the canteen. The water inside floated about in a small whip. With some help, the shirt and jacket was once more removed and the bandages, already sodden from blood, were removed. "Damn, Mustang. Out flirting with that pretty redheaded lady of yours?"

"Yes, sir. Couldn't help myself. She was just so fiery today." The two men set into a round of laughs.

The water moved over Roy's wounds carefully, spreading a cold sense of relief through his aching body. Wounds were instantly cleaned and scabs formed. His sore, reddish burns turned sickly pale and hardened. "Ya gotta be careful out there, bub. I know that little fire lady of yours is ya friend, but look atcha. By the time we' back in Central, ya be one hell of a circus side show. They gonna have to change your name. 'The Scarred Alchemist'. You'd put that old serial killer to shame."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah…" Roy shrugged feeling the muscles tense from stress. "I'll be just fine, just need a lit-"

The sound of the tent flaps lifting interrupted him. Both men inside quickly stood and saluted as Hildebrand walked in. "Ah, Mustang. Getting your wounds treated?"

"Yes, sir." The two men stood at ease. Charles eyes flicked over to his whip of water as he hid it behind him.

Hildebrand walked over to inspect Roy's back, letting his fingers gently run over the newly formed bruises and scabs. "Looks to be going well." His fingers could feel how Mustang's muscles tensed. He gently tapped his fingers against a rather nasty looking whip slash. "I heard you took care of the fire in the town."

"Yes, sir." Roy twitched, but kept his face schooled as best as he could.

"I heard instead of letting it burn, you eliminated it." He fingered some of the other cuts. His eyes locked on the man's back.

Instead of giving an answer, Roy looked over his shoulder to the other man, waiting for him to continue. He slowly swallowed. The fingers on his spine worried him. With just a thought, his body could become his worst enemy. The man behind him could rip out certain metals in his blood stream to create thorns that would protrude from his skin.

"Next time, be a good mutt and let the fire kill everything in its path." Hildebrand grinned. The ends of his finger tips left little glowing red spots on Roy's back. Roy's breath hitched and his face drained of colour. "After all, Mustang, we are killers." The man chuckled and walked around. He patted Mustang's head and left.

"Don't move, Mustang!" Charles darted the water from behind him turning it deadly. It sliced lines where the red dots appeared. Small little plops and the relief of pressure being taken away, alerted Roy of the small iron balls being removed from his back. "That sick sonovabiatch." Charles moved the water to comfort again, healing the new wounds.

Roy took in shuddering breaths and the colour returned to his cheeks. The cold sweat stopped and his shoulders fells. Hawkeye and Havoc moved into the tent and supported him. Both knowing what happened instantly by the half dozen silver balls on the ground. "Sir?" Hawkeye started.

Roy just nodded, giving her a small wave. "Just let me rest." He sat on the cot.

"Lay on your stomach, bub. Keep of 'em wounds. I'll be back 'bout an hour." Charles laid the water on Mustang's back and it slowly absorbed in. "That'll be an ice pack for a bit." He nodded to himself. "And that there first aid box has some of 'em cooling creams if need be." He smiled gently. "Take care." He headed out the tent.

Roy groaned and buried his face into the rock hard pillow. He ached so much. He was tired and furious. Not used to having his hand tied like this, he didn't know what to do. Hawkeye sat on the edge of his cot while Havoc took to sitting on the other cot which happened to be Fuery's. Fuery was still stuck in the hospital tent until his eye sight returned. He lost it from a flash bomb just a few days before. It wasn't major, just a hassle.

The three stayed quiet for awhile, not knowing where to start. The two blonds knew that even a simple comment could take a wrong turn with their afflicted commander. Roy's eye scanned the little silver balls on the ground. Perfect marble sized, glimmering in the sunlight that snuck through the flaps, and made from his blood. Gently nudging Hawkeye, the woman reached down and picked them up, handing them to him. He rolled them around in his hand and closed his eye.

"We're sorry, sir." Hawkeye said, softly. It wasn't really an apology, because neither one was at fault for the wounds, but it was an implied apology for not being able to help him like Hughes would have been able to, or the fact that they could not protect him from the higher ranking alchemist.

He gave a grunt, and rolled his shoulders. Slowly relaxing with the two watching over him, he silently started to drift to sleep, dreaming of gold and crimson.

* * *

"They're moving closer by the day." Gunmetal eyes glared at the horizon. He looked back towards the towns people gathered in the General Store. "As long as no one practices any alchemy, we should be able to hide under their radar for awhile."

Mumbles broke out in the crowd. "We should continue living our lives normally." An elderly man spoke out. A group mutter of 'always' and 'we're stronger than to let them push us' rippled through the building and into the waiting crowd outside.

"Everyone should keep a look out on the eastern horizon. We've got at least a few days until they come storming over the edge into Resembool." His blond hair moved slightly in front of his right eye as he looked over the worried group. He looked over to his younger brother who stood in a doorway to the back of the shop, an older blond lady stood next to him. Both looked grave and frightful.

"Everyone who can perform alchemy needs to keep low. Hide if you have to, but show no signs of suspicion when they get here. This is the military. They're nothing but overgrown egos. We shall continue on with the festivals preparation. That will surely confuse them." He rallied the people in the shop, feeding their sense of security.

Hopping down from the counter he stood on, he careful darted between people over to his brother and the lady. His six foot height made it easy to tower over people in his way. The flood of people quickly dispersed into the town. He nodded to the two people and walked into the alley out back.

"We need to get the farm house prepared. They will defiantly come snooping around." The young lady mumbled.

"Winry, you head home. I'm going to take the horses up to the hill again. Take my little brother with you and go inform the other two." He brushed his shoulder length hair out of his face. Winry nodded and patted the smaller blonde's shoulder.

"Be careful, brother." The younger man tugged at his green hat, the tassels dangling on his shoulders.

He nodded and left the alley. Climbing onto the wagons bench, he steered the horses out of the town and onto the dirt path that led to the hilly side blocking the town from the military. They could see the smoke that had risen to the sky from the nearby town. The blazes of blue that shimmered along the town's horizon alerted of alchemy. Tossing his hood up on his brown cloak, he pushed the horses onward wanting a better look.

Keeping an even gaze at his surroundings he grew closer. The horses ran at full speed. The cart he sat on wobbled and clanked at every large bump. Sudden movement caught his eye to his left as a tower of ground rose like a snake and dashed across the land, heading to the town. There off to the side he saw three very muscular men mending buildings with solid bedrock from under the ground. Without warning, a small circular piece of ground shot up to his right, causing the horses to veer from their set path.

Keeping the horses even, he darted from the men. One man gave chase with the pillar of earth. Taking one quick look around the cart making sure it was clear; he jumped onto the wooden bar keeping the horses together. In haste, he pulled up the metal pin attaching the horses to the cart. The horses lunged forward with the excess weight now removed. The cart rolled into the pillar of ground, smashing most of it to small rocks.

He silently cursed to himself. This wasn't what he was expecting. Seeing a nearby tall hill, he raced the horses towards it. With a leap, the two horses side by side jumped over the top and onto the ground beaten dirt where they halted.

Many pairs of eyes gazed up at him, but could not spot his face from the darkness of the hood. Readjusting his feet on the wooden bar, he got ready to sprint out of the way of danger. Tents littered the ground and formed a small city. People started shouting behind him and the hill of ground spitting sharp poles at him and the horses.

The horses took off with a start further into the city of tents. Leaping over open flames and around scattering people, the horses went deeper into the city. Figuring he had a better chance at escape, he saddled the black stallion on his left. Reaching down to grip the wooden bar, a green light erupted from the edges, releasing the bar to be left behind. The brown mare to his right was released from his hold. She took off to the right and headed for home by instinct.

He held the reins tightly in his grasp. Taking in every detail he could, he noticed that there was at least twice the amount of soldiers they had figured. That was defiantly not a good sign.

His thoughts were interrupted as the stallion stopped and reared back, giving a shrilling screech. There in front of him was a lady glaring pointedly at him. Her hair pinned back tightly and her hand reaching for her gun. "Don't move!"

Another wave of ground bars sprang from behind him. The horse spun around to face the bars before scooting back. They would hit him and the lady on the ground if he didn't act fast. Reaching down he grabbed her and swung her onto the back of the horse. The horse immediately moved to the left, dodging the projectiles.

Backing the horse up farther and taking a right, he darted around tents. The lady automatically clinging to him for balance as they winded through the maze of tents.

"Sorry about that." He shouted back to her. "It was safer to come with me than be impaled by flying dirt sticks."

She grunted her approval and hung tighter.

They had gotten closer to the hill again as they circled back when a large wall of fire flared to life in front of them. The horse went to a dead stop and away from the flickering flames.

"Release my lieutenant." A coarse voice commanded.

He looked to his right and there stood a man with deep raven black hair, fingers poised to snap. He instantly knew who the man was. After hearing so many stories about him, it was impossible not to know who he was. "Relax, Colonel Mustang." Bending around, he helped the lady down.

"Who are you?" A dark onyx eye questioned him warily.

"I am simply no one." He bowed his head to Mustang. "Take care, Flaming Pony." With a chuckle he snapped the reins and took off over the flames and across the hill.

Both Mustang and Hawkeye watched after the hooded figure, confused.

"He saved me." Hawkeye said after a few brief moments.

Roy dropped his fingers, staring speechlessly. "It can't be..."

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I love cliff hangers. Anyway, review because you love me.


	3. Song of the Screaming

Author's Note: Mwhahaha! I am damn sexy with writing, but I feel slightly ashamed. No one realized who the gray eyed man is. I thought it was fairly easy. I almost didn't want to put his name in this chapter, but oh well. I got two to three more characters that have no names in this one. Hopefully someone might get it right, otherwise I will feel really bad. Thank you everyone who commented. I love criticism and reviews. It seriously makes my day. I don't really have a song for this one, but if you have something with a bunch of people singing in one large chorus, I'd say play that near the end of the chapter. Really gets you in the mood. Sorry for any mistakes. All writing and beta-ing is mine. I write these when I have time which is rare so they're normally typed quickly. I might take on a beta later on. I'm not for sure yet. Anyway, review! The more reviews the faster the updates.

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Chapter 2

Song of the Screaming

His horse jumped over a small wooden fence that divided the great expanse of land from the small cattle field. He had long since out maneuvered the military and escaped their tent city. The horses was still running at full speed and panting for breaths. He slowed the beast and turned to look over his shoulder. Nothing was in sight, yet he could feel eyes on him. A shiver ran down his spine. Something wasn't right.

Pulling his hood tighter, he tugged the reins and moved the horse to face the way he came. Nothing but empty land as far as the eye could see, so what was this frightful feeling? He swung his head from side to side. Then he looked under the horse. He rode in a few small circles. There was nothing.

A chuckling caught his attention. "Sorry, Russ, I was just curious to see where you had gone." The voice came from the shadows of his cloak; soft and comforting.

"You just about scared the living daylights out of me." Russell grinned. "Maybe I shouldn't return home, because I'm worried someone might follow me."

A soft growl came from the shadow nearest to his ear. "Turn that horse home now!"

Russell laughed and did as the shadow commanded. He relaxed into a small trot across the cattle field. "So how long have you been watching?"

The shadow stirred. "Since Winry and Fletcher came back without you. Whatever were you thinking running straight into a military camp like that?" The voice hissed.

Russell bowed his head from embarrassment. "Actually, I didn't know the camp was there behind the hill."

The shadow's laugh echoed in the confines of the cloak. "Moron! By the way, Dapple got back here just fine. You're going to owe Granny a new cart though." The voice sighed, "Let's just hope that the military won't remember our horses. Otherwise, I don't think the horses will like being painted flamboyant colours. I'll remember to do yours bright pink." The laughter erupted again.

Russell rolled his eyes, but chuckled. He saw the small little farm house up the way. Jumping over the stone wall onto the path, he heard an air shuddering explosion behind him. Quickly flipping around, he looked over to the plume of smoke now drifting in the sky.

"That's not good." The voice whispered.

The smoke rose right over part of the military camp. It was a large explosion, but no sign of fire or large scale damage appeared. The sudden flare of coloured light from the camp gave away what caused it: Alchemy. Strong fire or chemical explosive based alchemy. Whoever was creating that type of explosion was defiantly not happy.

"They will probably ride into town tomorrow morning; tomorrow afternoon at the latest." Russell watched as another smoke plume arose.

"Right on time then. The festival will be taking place." The voice seemed to nod with approval. "Get home, dinner is almost done."

Russell nodded and headed home once more.

* * *

The dawn rose leaving rosy coloured streaks across the horizon. Pink tinted everything as creatures started to stir. Birds begun to sing their lovely songs, rabbits dashed across the wide expanse, cows mooed their morning wake up calls, and the sound for a rifle crackled in the still morning air…

Hawkeye successfully shot breakfast.

Two burly looking men sprinted across the prairie to grab their freshly killed breakfast. Lugging back a good 200 pound deer between them, Hawkeye raised her rifle again, scouting the land for food. That's when she saw them through her scope. Crawling on their bellies were two young boys no more than six. They were slowly approaching the camp. Not taking her sights off them, she clicked on her safety. "Colonel Williams, we got two small bogeys coming in from our three o'clock."

A white haired man with bright, lively green eyes sat down next to her staring through a pair of binoculars. "Must be the local welcome wagon curious to see the fireworks, eh Lieutenant?" He smiled. "Let's give them a show." He ducked back behind him and pulled out a small flare gun. Loading a cartridge, he aimed into the sky. "You think they'll like green?"

Hawkeye smiled back. "I'm sure they won't care."

With a chuckle, Williams fired the flare into the sky. With a bang, a bright green explosion formed slowly drifting to the ground. Through her scope, she watched the boys stop and with mouths wide open, she could guess they were oh-ing and ah-ing. Williams nodded to her and to a nearby female gunner to carefully approach the two boys. Crawling in the tall grass for cover, both women easily snuck up behind the two boys. Giving a shared smile, the two women sprang from the grass and tickled the unknowing boys.

"We suwwender!" The oldest boy squealed out.

The two women got up and gently picked up the boys heading back to the camp. The boys, too curious to be frightened, looked on with awe. They're playmates would never believe them.

"Wow, Jimmy! Looka dat! It's huge!" The older red haired boy said.

"Look, bruda! They got ponies too!" The littler red head giggle enthusiastically.

Setting the boys on the ground, Williams came up to kneel in front of them. "So what are two brave men like you doing out coming after little old us?" He patted their heads.

"We wanted to see the Indians!" The older male said, smiling the entire time.

"We heard dat they'd get us wif dem bow and awwows!" Jimmy pretended to shoot a bow at Williams, who feigned getting shot in the heart with a dramatic sigh. Williams having two boys and a granddaughter knew personally how to handle children.

"Now listen here you two, I'm not an Indian. I'm a cowboy!" Williams and some of the soldiers who came to see what the action was laughed. "You two rowdy bunch need to be careful where you go snooping off to. Won't your mother worry?"

"Ahh Jimmy and me gets into twouble all the time. Oh, and I'm Timothy!" Tim smiled, showing that his front baby teeth were missing.

"How old are you two?" Williams grinned.

"Jimmy there is fouw and I'm six and a half!" Tim proclaimed proudly.

"Nah uh! I'm fouw and a half too!" Jimmy scowled at his brother, holding up four fingers.

Before anything else could be said, a light bay coloured mare followed by a black Clydesdale rushed from over the hills across the prairie.

"Uh oh. Looks like momma finally noticed we was gone." Jimmy said, pouting some. "We was suppose to help with the festival stuff."

The two horses stopped a good fifteen meters away from the soldiers. Two cloaked people sat on the back, letting their gazes run over the armed men. One Hawkeye instantly recognized from the day before. Williams stood up waving the two figures over. Slowly, the two horses trotted over the final distance to stand before the men. Both figures on horseback were easily over six feet tall and would loom over anyone.

The figure with the brown cloak from the previous day dismounted his horse and strode over to Williams. "I'm sorry about this, sir. These boys didn't make trouble, did they? We all saw the flare." He pushed away his hood letting his fierce gray eyes bore into the soldier.

Williams smiled, "No, sonny. They were just curious to see the 'Indians'." He chuckled.

"That's good. These two always did have one hell of an imagination. Alright, McAllens, your momma sent us after you. Say goodbye cause we have to go."

Hawkeye said her goodbyes, but that wasn't what had her attention. The other figure still on horseback had not removed his black hood from his cloak. She could feel his penetrating gaze on her, boring into her soul. It was nerve racking. She gave a final smile to the boys as they were lifted up onto the horses. She gasped though as the two boys gave their apologies to the men who had to come retrieve them.

"We' sowwy, Wussell and Al." It couldn't be. Her mind was reeling as the two horses sprinted back to the town. That's when it came. A dark, foreboding feeling rushed over her. She instantly looked around her. Nothing was out of the ordinary. She started to slowly creep back to the tent maze with her rifle strung over her shoulder. No matter where she went she could feel eyes on her; a strong penetrating gaze that never wavered on her, seeping into her thoughts and soul. She decided to take a detour instead. Maybe one of the others would realize something is wrong too.

Carefully slinging the gun to her other shoulders, she pushed into the tent. With a quick salute, she laid her gun down and took a seat at the edge of the cot.

"I heard a flare go off." Roy's gruff voice sheltered much pain. His gaze shifted in the tent. "Something is watching." Suddenly the shadows seemed to move, escaping the tent. He narrowed his eyes.

"It followed me since those two men arrived." Hawkeye looked around. "It's gone now."

"Two guys?" Roy's eyes flickered over.

"Two men name Russell and Al…"

* * *

The streets were decorated in strings of bright coloured flags. Music filled the streets. People danced and cheered. Food and small trinkets lined carts along the streets. Children ran between people, playing with new toys. Fireworks blasted in the middle of roads causing small dust storms. Old men sat around chess boards and chattered about their youthful days. Women sat and knit or attended to their festival foods.

Shadows moved silently down the alley ways and on top of roofs, watching the eastern horizon. It was just past eight in the morning and with all the activity in the city, the military was surely coming to move at any moment. Everyone in town knew the plan. They just had to wait until the perfect moment.

Fletcher was currently spinning Winry in circles as they danced to the loud music playing from a band. Drums killed out the sound of the squeals of the children as another cracker bomb popped in the street. Bright blue light shown from little flash bombs tossed into the air. Confetti fell from the sky like snow. Everything was good.

"What do you think?" Russell silently stood beside a six foot four man with dirty blond hair ruffled up.

"Looks fun down there, too bad we're stuck up here." The man grinned.

Russ snorted. "I didn't mean that."

"Hey, can't help wanting to play down there too." He nudged the man in the ribs; his bright grayish blue eyes smiling cheerfully at Russell before turning back to scanning the crowded streets below.

"You just want to dance with Winry!" Russell baited before getting a slight slap on the shoulder.

"You just want to dance with _HIM_!" The other man replied childishly, knowing the older man's weakness.

Russell's cheeks tinted before he scuffed the other man's head. "Hush and watch for the military."

"How long do you suppose they'll be?" Blue eyes narrowed.

Russell shrugged, lifting his gunmetal eyes across the people in the street then to the alleys looking for something, but not finding it. "Who can tell, they have always been slow."

The two stood in silence. Every so often, a sign from another patrolling man would indicate that there was nothing out of the ordinary. The people hiding in the shadows of the alleys relayed the same. Everything was going as normal. It made the hair on Russell's neck stand on end. He wasn't impatient. He just didn't like dangerous situations to drag out. For now they just had to sit and wait.

* * *

The military had packed their tents. Dressed in their formal parade uniforms, they slowly marched to stand hidden behind a top hill. They had sent spies in to recover information early the past two days. The town of Resembool was having a festival. Not just any festival though. They were having a special festival for alchemy. This was the perfect time to storm into the town and capture any alchemist performing his alchemy without ARC identification. The previous night they had chimera creating alchemists make them a batch of very unique dogs: ones that could smell the use of alchemy on someone within the past three days.

Hildebrand smiled to himself. How easy it is to kill the flock of sheep as they herded together.

The whistle pierced the air in the partying town. Show time was about to start. The town's people cheered and formed large circles that spun. The patrols on the roofs and in the alleys took up innocuous positions along Center Street. People clapped and the drums beat louder as the military moved over the hills from the prairies like a flood of blue waves.

Their boots thumped a beat of their own, but was miraculously in sync with the beat of the drums. The marching grew louder as they neared and the earth shook with all the vibrations or the marching soldiers and the boisterous town. Two mighty forces were ready to collide; the Amestris military and the highly intelligent people of Resembool.

People passed out small pouches amongst the crowd, who quickly hid them in pockets and under hats. Children ran around innocently hiding more of the pouches under carts and behind boxes. The people pretended that nothing was happening and that the military was nowhere near them.

The sky was bright with small puffs of clouds painting the perfect scenery. A slight breeze that blew in from the north kept it the right temperature, keeping even the dancing people perfectly comfortable. Shouts and cheers were blasted into the air as the military breached the entrance of Central Street. Dragging many of the bleary and confused soldiers into their dancing circles, the people continued to sing on chorus songs of joy and alchemy. Eyes watched the men in blue carefully without them realizing as they were slowly sucked further into town.

As another chorus was sung to the heavens, violins screamed their tunes, causing one haunting melody. The song would shrivel even the most blood stained men from uneasiness. The drums stopped and the violins ended as the final chorus was sung only with voices, both civilians and soldiers alike.

A crimson shadow lurked in the darkness of the alleys, unnoticed by everyone…

* * *

I am the queen of cliff hangers!

By the way, 'light bay' has black stockings (from the knee to the hoof), tail, and mane while their main coat is a very light brown. A Clydesdale is an extremely hard working horse that works best in extremely cold climates and their hooves are hidden by locks of hair. So if you can imagine the horses you'd see on Budweiser commercials.


	4. Five Steps Until Clapping

Author's Note: So I feel like a complete dumbass. THE HORSE WAS NOT A BRUMBY. IT WAS A CLYDESDALE. God, I don't know how I could have gotten those two mixed up. Blah, I used to own a Clydesdale. Powerful and huge horses. Not really fast runners, but holy shit could they pull really heavy things really long distances without slowing. Anyway, that's had me upset this entire time. Yes some people have finally gotten who which character is which, but let me warn you, this is me writing. I don't write stuff straight out. I won't say, 'That person loves this person.' Oh no. I'll make it hard and difficult with lots of twists and turns. Just because I can.

* * *

Chapter 3

Five Steps Until Clapping

The song died off with the final chorus. The dazed soldiers not knowing what to do formed into shoddy packs as they maneuvered in the small streets. Their boots clunked on the hard cobble underfoot. Lower ranked soldiers looked to the older commanding officers, but clearly on their face was a look of utter confusion.

Step 1: Confuse the enemy. Do the unexpected.

Field Marshal Hildebrand snarled as the crowd parted to let him through to the center. He was definitely not pleased with how easily his men became distracted. Narrowing his eyes, his eyes shifted back and forth, whipping over the crowd. Everyone's attention directed to him. They were not really turning their attention on his appearance, but rather on his uniform. Steady gazes stared up and down his uniform taking in the stars and stripes donning his military jacket.

Step 2: Identify the head of the snake, also known as the highest rank.

A horse's snort was the only sound in the eerie calm. The hair's on the soldier's necks begun to rise. This was the first time anything like this has ever happened. These people were up to something and they knew it, but what they were up to was something completely different. Hildebrand whipped around and glared at anything or anyone. "Who's the leader of this town?"

Step 3: Set up a distraction.

Russell smiled from his position on the roof. "Why, sir that would be me." Russell causally jumped to the street below, grinning like a Cheshire cat. "How can I assist the military today?"

Hildebrand took in his appearance. Smirking as if Russell was not good enough to be in his presence, Hildebrand walked closer. Almost as tall as Hildebrand, but not quite, Russell had to tilt his head back slightly, not impressed nor intimidated at all. Russell calmly watched the Field Marshal with calculating eyes. Russell could tell this man was an alchemist due to the slight clink of metal from his left arm. Hildebrand reached out his right hand to shake, but Russell did not move. Closely inspecting the man's hand, Russell tried to puzzle out the man's talent.

"Afraid of alchemists, boy?" Hildebrand snorted while his smirk widen.

"No, I just don't trust a rat when I smell one." Russell looked up sharply. "Who knows what you could do to me by just touching that – _thing_." Russell pointed at the black circle on the back of the man's hand.

Hildebrand dropped his hand and smiled. "You don't like our type?"

Russell snorted. "I don't trust you _type_. An alchemist _and_ in the military; both negative strikes against you."

Step 4: Lay down faulty information to the enemy.

Hildebrand reviewed his first impressions on the man before him. Thinking he could use the boy to help him in the capture of any rogue alchemists in the area. After all, a little punk kid versus a Field Marshal alchemist was surely an easy fight to win. He would use the boy to get what he wanted then simply leave.

"And just how do you plan to catch these alchemists? Some sort of black magic voodoo?" Russell and some nearby listeners chuckled, obviously knowing the blatant disrespect towards the Field Marshal.

Step 5: The final step before taking action. Get the inside scoop and get the hell out of the blast zone.

"We have special chimeras, of course. Chimeras that can sniff out alchemy and are geared with very lethal weapons to handle any rogue alchemist imaginable." Hildebrand puffed out his chest in a sign of arrogance, completely not figuring that he could have just given his entire special weapon away to the enemy.

"Hmm… That so?" Russell grinned. Lifting his hand in the hair in a fist, he swirled it twice, then opened it. Pouches of compounds were brought out of pockets and exploded into multi-coloured lights. The lights were so bright that they were easily mistaken for alchemical reactions. Russell jumped back out of the reach of the Field Marshal and slung himself back onto the store's rooftop. "Just remember, alchemist, we don't take orders from the military."

People scattered back into stores and down alleyways, preparing to take action on the mobilizing forces. Guns pointed out of windows and people on roofs held up small pistols. Alchemy arrays spread over much of the walls and road where people once stood. Of course, regular soldiers would not know that those arrays were fake and could not even hurt a fly, so they started to lower their guns and back away as best they could. Some called out to their higher command, who were even worried.

Hildebrand smiled. Pulling out a flare gun from his pocket, he lifted it to the sky and the red flare stained the sky. The sound of steel cages and vicious barking was heard far down the street. The crowd knowing what was coming quickly took action. More pouches of coloured dye powder flew across the soldiers, coating their uniforms. Confused and not ready for the attack, soldiers did not see the significance of the dye.

The dog chimeras came scrabbling down the cobbled streets, heading straight for the military alchemists. Realizing this, the soldiers frantically scraped at the dye on their clothing. "They can't tell we're military cause of the powder!" Someone shouted hysterically.

Hildebrand snarled, but as a movement to his right out of the corner of his eye caught his attention he smiled. Grabbing the small child that tried to sneak behind him with a bag of powder that smelled like it was mixed with honey to coat his array; he exploded the bag and lifted the boy by the leg in the air. The alchemical reaction residue settled not only on himself, but also on the boy in his grasp.

A burly dog stampeded right at the boy, its teeth bared in a snarl. The dog was easily bigger than a horse and the shear muscle power could go through a stone wall. A terrified scream left the boy as the dog came down to clamp its jaws on him.

A flash of blinding green light and the dog hung limp. Tree roots shot from the ground and into the beast like deadly needles. The tree roots then finished off the rest of the blood lusting mutts, tossing them to the sides. "Really did not want to have to do that."

Russell growled down at Hildebrand with his hands on an array on the roof. "So you would kill an innocent child?"

"I thought you hated alchemists?" The reply was full of sarcasm. Hildebrand tossed the boy to the side, taking a fighting stance.

"Oops. Did I say that? It seems I lied." Russell shrugged his shoulders out of mock apology. He gave the array another press as tree roots shot out of the ground aiming at Hildebrand. The roots barely missed, but with a clap of his hands, Hildebrand exploded all of them into ash.

"You'll have to do better than pathetic amateur tricks with me, boy. I am a State Alchemist after all."

Russell shoved off the roof and aimed for a good few meters away from the Field Marshal pulling out a red stoned ring. "If you say so, old man." Snapping, red explosions aimed in a line headed straight towards the other man taking him by surprise. About to snap again he was stopped by the sounds of guns cocking. Chancing a glance behind him, he noticed that some of the men had pointed their guns at him. "Now this doesn't seem fair."

Hildebrand laughed, "I'm from the military. I don't have to play fair with a punk like you."

A resonating clap of two palms echoed through the streets. Every set of eyes rested on the figure in the deep shadows of the nearby alley. "You obviously do not uphold your oath as a soldier of the Amestris military nor as an alchemist." The figure remained in the shadows. "Since you say you're so good, shall we play?"

Hildebrand grinned fiendishly as his laughter bellowed down the stone walls. "If you think you can handle me."

* * *

Roy and Armstrong had settled into a place along the walls as more and more soldiers were dragged away into the spinning crowds on party goers. Armstrong had easily grabbed Mustang by the back of his collar and dragged him to the safety of the wall. Roy, having lost his unit in the moving mass of people, stayed by the side of the large alchemist. If not for safety purposes, than for the comforting fact of a friendly face in a mesh of unknown threats.

Due to the protective shielding the overhanging roof provided them, they had missed the pouches of powder sent flying down. Creeping down the length of the wall, he and Armstrong took front row seats to the dual between the young man controlling the plants that propelled out of the ground versus their Field Marshal. Roy had to agree with the man, what the Field Marshal had done was not fair in any situation. Armstrong had growled behind him when the Marshal had threatened the boy's life. Hearing the guns click brought him out of his thoughts and looked at the small group of soldiers daring the arrays who aimed at the boy in front of him. What interested him the most though, was that red stone attached to the ring he wore. Since he put that on, he no longer had to use arrays. The clap of two flesh palms press together drew everyone's attention away from the boy in the street to the figure hiding in the shadows.

Roy instinctively raised his right hand to snap, but froze as the voice seemed so familiar.

* * *

He settled his blue eyes on Hildebrand, watching his every movement. He knew this was a bad idea, but he had to help. The man had threatened innocent children from the town. Therefore, he had an idea he decided to play off on. If was a dangerous idea, but he figured it was almost foolproof. The only thing that could do him in is if he was knocked out. The disguise alchemy would only last as long as his consciousness did.

Taking a steady glance out of the corner of his eye, he could feel that soul-disintegrating stare on him. It meant that the person he had most reason to hide from was watching him. One false mishap and his cover was blown. The thought worried him some making his foolproof plan seem less structurally sound.

Coming out of the shadows, he realigned his glaring blue eyes on the man he planned to fight. His jet-black hair fell into his eyes with a strong wind, but he did not move to correct it. The phony arrays 'tattooed' to his fingers glowed a steady blue. Leaping forward, he clashed his hands to the ground.

* * *

The military backed up in an instant as their highest commanding officer face planted into the cold, hard cobble road. It did not take long for the black hair male to beat their boss in an alchemy fight. Debris and partial transmutations littered the road. Town's people cheered from their window seats or from the alleys they watched from.

The black haired male clapped again and gently placed them to the street, fixing it to what it once was. Dusting his pants off as he stood, he looked to the soldiers. "I advise you to please drop your guns or at least lower them."

The soldiers were taken aback from the kindness the man showed. The man who had just beaten their commander was showing them respect. Whoever heard of that? The man could just command them to do it and no one would resist. However, that kindness was what Roy really focused on. It was something so familiar, yet he could not place it.

"I'd like you all to please take your things and leave this town. We have not caused you any trouble, so we wish for you not to cause us trouble." The man gave a faint bow before turning to leave.

Before he realized what he had done, he had shot forward closer to the man. "What is your name?"

The man seemed to tense as he froze. Turning to look over his shoulder, bright wary blue eyes regarded him. "Alfred, sir." The man once more turned away.

A clap from the ground caught everyone by surprise as Hildebrand placed his hands on the stone sending an explosion right at Alfred. Alfred had just enough time to turn to see what was happening as the explosion detonated at his feet.

"Ha! I got the little bastard now!" Hildebrand wheezed between ragged breaths.

However, as the smoke cleared there stood a cobble stone wall. There was no possible way that Alfred could have caused the wall to appear. The man did not have enough time to even clap. The wall vanished into the ground and there stood Alfred without even a ruffle to his clothes.

"That's impossible!" Hildebrand roared.

Stone spiked jutted from the ground from a dark alley not populated by anything but shadows. The stone spikes stabbed through Hildebrand's hands, making the arrays useless. Everyone, even Alfred and the blond man from before, looked to the shadows. A younger recruit carefully glanced into the dark shadows, obviously scared to death. Looking back over to the other soldiers, the man shook his head. There was nothing there.

Turning his gaze back to where Alfred had stood, he realized that the man had disappeared.

* * *

The festival continued and the military had left. Now the party goers were settling in with a strong drink and slow-paced music. Many people had returned home with young children for bed or the merry making young couples for a night of fun. The music played loud, but soothingly over the people washing away their hectic day. Candles littered every window spread warm light over the peaceful town.

The military had camped once more of the high hills to the east, shaken from the day's events. Not only were they fooled by ordinary town's people, their incredible chimeras killed, and their commanding officer made useless, but the people of the town offered them food for the night. Instead of rations that tasted like dirt, they ate freshly brewed stew over a campfire.

On the other hand, their stashes of medical supplies were plunging. They would soon be out of bandages and simple disinfecting creams. Many of the soldiers would die from loss of blood or from terrible infections if more supplies were not found soon.

Leaving the planning to a selected few generals, the infiltration of the town at night began its preparations. Stretching to all isolated homes first, they would slowly move in until they found everything they needed. Roy's team, having previous experience in Resembool, took command of the situation. Directing most of the small scout groups to other locations, Roy sectioned off the Rockbell's house and the small town cemetery.

Bringing Fuery along was a difficult decision, but the possibility of him healing faster overtook the worry. It made traveling slower, yet with great stretches of nothing but tall grass and farmland, taking the dirt roads were safe from watching eyes.

"Careful, Fuery, pot hole." Havoc guided the smaller man by the arm.

"It will be so good to be able to see again." Fuery sighed with frustration. "Where are we going, General?"

Armstrong and Hawkeye had both taken this beaten path that wound up hills into the isolated plane. Only two houses were out here. One of which was burned to the ground. He did not know how to put it without seeming to have lost his mind. It was just coincident that they were in Resembool when some weird burst of alchemy power occurred… Right?

"Sir, if you're thinking that the Elrics are back, then you're not the only one." Hawkeye's words of wisdom floated back to him from her point as spotter.

"She's right, sir. Only two people we know can just clap and do alchemy that powerful." Brenda nodded eagerly.

Roy looked to each of his men's profiles in the dark. Each held a gleam of hope in their eyes. Six years was a long time to wait, but with the Elrics, it was just a speck in their history. He smiled softly, "I think they're back. I hope they're back."

Moving a bit faster, they reached the small farmhouse not long after. The lights were still on in all of the rooms indicating that everyone was awake. There on the porch stood Aunty Pinako and Winry staring right at the small posse climbing up the road.

"Back again, Mister Roy Mustang." Pinako smoked her piped as always. Her beady eyes looking calm and strong as they ran over the group approaching her. "First you and your lieutenant come by to take Edward and Alphonse, then Mister Armstrong returns them broken, and now, here you are with your whole command and the military out in the thousands in the nearby pastures and what of my boys, hmm?"

Taking a step into the light, Roy looked down into her eyes with an equally steady gaze. "They're alive, aren't they?"

She sighed heavily, "I wish I could say yes." She turned around and headed inside, but before all the way in she called out, "Bring the wounded in. I'll take a look." Roy's hopes started a free falling crash and burn cycle again.

"By the way, how did you know we were coming here?"

"Alfred told us."

With a subtle clearing of his throat, Alfred walked out of the darkness behind the group. "We should have a chat, Colonel Mustang…"

* * *

More cliff hangers!

Remember: more reviews the faster I update. The awkward thing is, is that this story is actually about to get to the good part. I've finished my research on it so, better chapters are about to occur which means I need input from the reviewers. You tell me how you think this story should go. Yes I'm going to write it to fit my scheme, but still, it's nice to see what the reader wants and if it's a good idea I like, it will be added into the story. So don't be shy.


	5. The Watching Eyes

Author's Note: These first five chapters or so are meant to be confusing. It's to draw you in and make you wonder what the answer is so you keep on reading. Truth be told though, is that I left all the answers in the story. You just have to read between the lines. Try to assume some things. One review I wanted to answer will be explained at the bottom AFTER you read this chapter. It will clear things up and show you how to find hidden secrets in my story. I planned to do flashbacks, but only very small and subtle ones, like quick flashes of memories. The problem with doing flashbacks so soon within a story is that they can give away everything like the plot, all your dirty secrets on characters, or even the ending. My flashbacks will be rare and not entirely clear to purpose. I rather you wonder and let your imagination run wild, before I give you a broad answer, because I never play fair. :)

* * *

Chapter 4

The Watching Eyes

The cozy lighted dining room was packed tightly. Chairs had been drugged in from other parts of the house to accommodate everyone comfortably. Mustang's small command nursed hot brews of coffee as Pinako investigated Fuery's eyes. Alfred was nestled on the kitchen counter staring contently at the floor. Winry paced back and forth in front of the dining room door as if on guard. The blinds were pulled to block the view from outside. Tension was thick in the air.

"What do you people need coming out this far?" Pinako asked without looking up from her work.

"The military is out trying to raid for medical supplies and since we knew you were around here, we figured you might be able to help Fuery." Armstrong spoke to the small woman politely.

"Always doing things the hard way. The people here would have just given it to you, only Gate knows why." She removed the light from Fuery's eye. "Alright, lad, take a deep sniff of this." Pinako held out a small brown tinted bottle with no label to Fuery.

Fuery did as he was told holding the bottle under his nose before quickly pulling it away. His nose scrunched up, "Oh my! That reeks!" His eyes watered and he wiped helplessly at his nose trying to rid the smell. Giving his eyes a couple good rubs to erase the tears he smiled. Putting his glasses back on the bridge of his nose, he looked down at Pinako. "Thank you, ma'am!"

"I figured that would help your eyes. Your eyes will be back to normal after a few hours. Try not to run into things. You just needed to wash out some of the chemicals still left in your tear ducts." She patted his knee and scurried off to return her equipment to their rightful places.

The room died once more to uncomfortable tension. Finally gaining the courage, Mustang looked to the uneasy boy on the counter. "Who exactly are you?"

Knowing that the question would eventually come, the blue-eyed man looked up to the pairs of questioning eyes. Keeping his gaze steady even with the most tale tell signs of worry, he spoke soft but strong. "First, Colonel, tell me what has happened with the military. Why has something as terrible as ARC occurred?"

Many of the sets of eyes turned questioning to the man. Mustang had not been a colonel in a very long time. Everyone in Amestris and nearby countries knew how ARC was passed. You would have to have been living under a rock to not know about it. It had been all over the news for months on end. Everyone talked about it. It was the number one hot topic for radical groups and politics.

"You are not from here, are you?" Hawkeye spoke first. Her eyes narrowed intently watching every movement the man made.

He chuckled nervously and rubbed the back of his head. "Well you see, I'm from here it's just that I haven't been here in awhile. Things are still confusing and a little unclear." He gave an apologetic smile.

Her eyes widen and her mouth gaped open. She knew exactly who this man was. Unclear to why he was disguised the way he was, she kept quiet but with the small nod he gave that only she noticed she could guess why as she quickly schooled her face. The edges of her mouth twitched with the suppressed smile.

Steady footsteps from the stairs caught everyone's attention. Two blond men walked into the room. One's gaze was angry and calculating while the other's held worry, but acceptance. Pinako came back from a room down the hall and slid into a chair, knowing that this conversation would take a long time. She just hoped she had enough coffee to last.

Taking lead of this conversation, the black haired man nodded towards the two new occupants of the room, "The taller one is Russell Tringham, and the younger one is Fletcher Tringham. As you saw earlier, they're alchemists just like me." Turning his gaze back onto Mustang, he took in a deep breath. "Will you tell me what has happened? I will answer any question afterwards."

Roy looked to his men in thought. Each one had their eyes focused on him, almost seeming to plead for him to tell. Their curiosity of the man was killing them. He had to admit, he too was very curious. Swallowing tightly, he nodded. "I'm a Brigadier General now. I was promoted four years ago. I'm assuming you know about the assassination of our beloved Führer Bradley?"

The man snorted, but smiled. "I know that quite well."

Roy looked at him even more curious, but shrugged it off. "General Hakuro became the next Führer. Lately, anti-State Alchemist groups have gotten stronger and wordier with their attacks. Luckily, it has not sprawled into violence. The debating of the ARC plans was taking months to even get a written copy that was readable and not all scratched out from corrections."

* * *

Roy had just walked into Central Command and up the stairs to his office, when something in the air felt wrong. The normal talk in the halls had been absent and the scarcity of people signaled a warning to him. Carefully opening the door to the outer office, he glanced around. Not noticing any threats, he walked in. Hawkeye rounded her desk to step in front of him with a piece of paperwork in hand. Shoving it under his nose, he read the black ink.

_As of the 21__st__ of March, I hereby decree all alchemists of Amestris to willing sign up and receive their identification chains for the Alchemist Registration Codes. If any alchemist does not willing do so, it is counted as an act of treason to the Führer and will be acted upon accordingly._

He slumped with sudden despair. ARC was passed over night without a full council to vote upon. A heavy stone sat in the pit of his stomach. He could tell that by the way Hawkeye looked from him to his office that people from ARC were already waiting for him. They would steal his rights from him as a living human being. He would become not a dog of the military, but property of the state of Amestris. He would become a slave. He would no longer a person who could decide for himself, but rather a _thing_ that would be on disposal to his _masters_. It made him sick and the pit in his stomach twisted.

He signed dejectedly. Gazing to the members in his team for moral support, he saw the looks of anger and pity. They too were not happy for these unsympathetic codes. It disgusted every one of them. Alchemists were humans too. Just because they could crack, the learning of alchemy did not change them from living flash and bones. They had to eat and breathe just like the rest of them.

The walk from the outer office to his door must have been the longest walk he had ever had to make. His hand rested firmly on the handle. Squeezing his eyes shut tightly and taking a deep breath, he schooled his face into one of his obedient masks. Pushing the door open, there stood the Führer with some of his loyal ARC supporting generals.

"So good to see you, General Mustang. We've come to issue you into ARC." Führer Hakuro smiled sardonically.

The papers were laid out nicely on his desk with a pen lying right on top. Roy did not miss the guns in easy positioned places to reach if the men felt like Mustang would not go willingly. He smiled and gave his welcomes before going to his desk to pick up the pen. Swallowing again, his mind swam with ideas to get out of this, but all of them included him killing the Führer again or going AWOL. There was no way he could get out of this. For once in his life, there was nothing Roy Mustang the Flame Alchemist could do.

He reluctantly signed the papers in his neatest signature and handed the papers to the nearest general who had his hand outstretched to take them. Bowing his head, he lifted his left hand into the air so the next general could attach the anti-alchemy identification chains. The two silver bracelets shined wickedly at him. "For Amestris," he whispered to himself.

* * *

The day was forever blazed into his memory. That day would haunt him the rest of his life. Over ten thousand alchemists ranging from all levels were 'signed, sold, and tagged' that day. Silver chains of slavery were issued without as much as a small smile of sympathy.

He sat their quietly for a minute. His only remaining eye stared at a fixed spot on the floor of the dining room. Everyone was silent and the tension was gone, replaced with a feeling of sadness. "Squads were formed to balance out alchemists and regular soldiers to start with the registrations of towns outside Central," he softly picked back up.

* * *

"Roy Mustang the mighty Flame Alchemist, it is such a pleasure to meet you!" A rather tall, lanky but strong blond man shook his hand. His smiling face screamed deception to Roy. Something about this man scared him to death, and nothing without a great cause scared the great Flame Alchemist.

"I am the Blood Saber Alchemist, Field Marshal Hans Hildebrand." The man grinned. "I will be your new superior out in the field."

Roy saluted and then fell to ease without a single emotion running over his mask. "It will be an honor, sir, to be with you in the line of duty."

Hildebrand laughed, "Oh for you, it shall be, my dear Flame."

* * *

Even thinking about how he met the man made his body tense, and his desire to snap near impossible to resist. The man's job was simply to break him then rebuild him under the new Führer's ideas and beliefs. The man had tortured him, whipped him in public for his disobedience, and squashed his hopes of escape. He was vile and heartless when he stormed towns, taking women and children and killing men after making them dig their own mass graves. He would make the surviving town's folk labor for the soldiers. Make them cook, clean, and help with heavy labor that most of the women have never had to do before. The children often died from exhaustion before Hildebrand would let the earth alchemists rebuild their town and move on to the next. He sucked in a shuddering breath and the black haired man soaked in what Roy had to offer.

A hand rested on his shoulder pulled him out of his thoughts. He looked up to see bright blue eyes staring at him with strong determination. "I believe we have heard all we needed to hear." He smiled kindly down at Roy. "May I see your wounds?" He quickly hurried on to stop Roy from his protests. "I think I may be able to rid you of the scarring."

Uncertainty swept through Roy. He wanted to trust the man who felt so familiar yet looked so strange to him. Although before he could answer, a small knock on the wall from the doorway sounded. Piercing blue eyes looked sharply into the empty doorway, but nodded and moved away from Roy. "Fine, you can take care of that."

Perched back up on the counter with one of his legs pulled against his chest and his chin resting comfortably on his knee, his eyes never left the doorway. "Since you've been paying close attention, what do you suggest our next step is?" He asked the emptiness.

Roy looked between his team. Most of them looked confused. Havoc and Breda were making crazy signs to one another while Falman and Hawkeye tried to see whatever the young man could see.

Growling, the young man stood, "Still going to hide then? You heard him. Things here have gone to hell. They need help." He crossed his arms, tilted his head, and waited for an answer.

"He's got a point and you know how much I hate the military." For the first time since entering the room, Russell spoke. His eyes took in the doorway as well. Winry stood close to him, nodding her head in agreement.

With a heavy sigh and a clap of hands, the black haired man looked smug. "Don't make me have to force your hand, _brother_," he called singsong like. The room remained quiet.

Taking the hint that the _person_ was not going to answer, he placed his hands on his chest, letting his disguise fall away. Ruffling his now blond hair, his grayish blue eyes turned back to Roy. "Hello, sir!"

A collective shout of "Alphonse!" filled the air. The team stood up to pat and hug the boy, now a man. The only two that did not move was Hawkeye, who already knew, and Roy, who stared pointedly at the doorway still. Roy's mind was spinning as he blocked out everything else. Al had said brother, which only meant that…

The chair squealed as it was forced back. Roy made a dash to the doorway, but stopped before crossing the threshold. His mouth dried and all his words died in his throat. His trembling hand held onto the doorway to steady himself. He was afraid to look around the corner just to have all his hopes die. It felt like time had slowed as a very warm and _real_ hand laid itself over his.

"Are you just going to stand there, bastard?"

The voice that haunted him in his dreams, the voice that he would never forget, the voice that drove him insane, the voice he loved to tease, the _man_ he missed was back. Pushing himself to go forward, he looked around the doorway to look at the man. There sitting on the steps was a man with rich golden hair. His features were sharper and his clothes were more mature, but he was still the same as before when they had last met for a few minutes.

Flinging himself around the corner completely, he lifted the man into a tight embrace. Roy dug his face into the man's neck and took a shuddering inhale. He felt his shoulders shake and felt the hands that ran down his spine comforting him. Tangling one hand into golden locks and pushing on the man's back with the other, he quieted his sobs in his throat before they could be released. A hand drifted to his face, gently running over his eye patch. The golden haired man pulled away slightly. Putting both hands on Roy's face to force him to look at his face, he whispered quiet yet fearsome, "What have they done to you?"

Roy sighed and closed his eye, relaxing in the soft strokes on his cheeks. For once in a very long time, he felt completely relaxed. He forgot all about his problems. He forgot that he was actually on a mission. He forgot that he wore what haunted him the most; the thing he sold his soul to. He forgot that other people were in the vicinity. He wanted to forget everything. "I'm alright." His whisper sounded broken.

He opened his eye to look the man in the eyes, but that is when he froze. His muscles tensed once more and his grip tightened. He inhaled sharply. "Edward, you're… you're…" Roy stuttered, trying to get the words out of his mouth coherently.

"Blind." Edward finished for him, his unseeing eyes trying to focus on his face with a small, sad smile.

* * *

I was kind of upset cause this chapter was smaller than all my others, but this chapter was very special. Obvious reasons are to finish off Alfred, introduce Edward and his condition, and do all the personal flashbacks. If you read really careful though, like I said above about showing plot ideas, there are atleast two very bold mentions on where this story is going. Five bucks says no one gets them.

Anyway here the example of reading between the lines, because I really did set you all up for this one. It even makes me cackle evilly: Russ and Al went on horseback to the camp + Al saw Hawkeye + kiddo said sorry to 'Wussell and Al' + Hawkeye heard + the mysterious shadow following Hawkeye = The shadow went back and told Al that Hawkeye had suspicions. Thus came the name Alfred.

Now when it was in Alfred's POV during the street match, he says that there was a man in the crowd that if he wasn't really careful the man would blow his cover. The man was Roy. Then you have the blatant things like the 'phony' tattoos. Then you have the shadows in the alley sending up spikes. All that good stuff.

Here's an easy one: Fuery's eyesight = Edward's eyesight.

I will give you a hint to something though. My treat. 'Redheaded lady' + silver marbles + Roy being afflicted + Roy dreaming of red and gold + my dear flame = Dun dun dunnnnn!


	6. Of Murderous Deutsch

Author's Note: This chapter for some reason was so incredibly hard to right. It was just struggling to be written. I think I might have ran a little too fast with it as well. This chapter was to strengthen some things and bring in the true plot of this story. Yes, ladies and gents, this story is the FIRST chapter with the TRUE main plot in it. Many hints in it too that should tip you off on possibly an idea. Besides, I needed to heal a few of the characters. Boring chapter, I know, but sometimes things just have to be done. Next chapter is a hell of a lot more interesting.

* * *

Chapter 5

Of Murderous Deutsch

Edward sat comfortably against Roy's chest. They were finally alone for a while as everyone got some down time. All the lights in the house were out, tossing the small house into pitch black. Little sparks of blue light would flare up from time to time between Ed's hands as he carefully ran them over, now bare, skin up Roy's arms. Used to not seeing things, the process in the dark was easy, but the fact that Roy kept moving, giving him kisses on the neck or tight hugs, continued to mess him up. He would growl and swat a hand occasionally, but that only provoked the older man, who he secretly thought liked being touched.

"I will bite you, Roy Mustang." The blond-haired man growled, irritated.

"Oh my dear, sweet Edward, you are acting kinky already?" Roy purred into his ear.

Edward's face flushed as he swatted another hand. The older man could not help but laugh at the smaller man in his lap. He tugged the man into another close embrace and intertwined his hand with a very real, warm right hand. Roy had been not only overjoyed by the young man's success of completing his original mission of becoming whole, but he was astounded by the man's alchemy now. Edward no longer needed to clap. He simply had to think of what he wanted, and then it happened. Roy knew one thing though that bothered him to his core. Edward was not telling him the whole story.

He brushed it off though and took on the pure bliss he got from hugging his long lost lover. Six tortuous years he waited to have him back. According to what Alphonse and Edward said, they had returned about eight months before, but their recovery was slow and Edward's recovery was slower than Al's. The Gate had stolen Edward's sight, but returned his limbs and somehow increased his alchemy talent. He snorted silently to himself, _as if the kid needed to be any better._

"Ugh! Fine! Not my fault if this hurts, you moving bastard." Edward slammed his hands onto the arms restricting his movement causing a rather sharp blue glow crawl up Mustang's skin, sending a fire of prickles up his nerves and down his spine.

Roy grunted as his body stood rigid. He could feel the tremors in his muscles as they flexed and constricted. The scarred flesh stretched back together, closing gaps. The light finally died after some minutes and his body collapsed to lean against the wall. Slightly out of breath, Roy idly closed his eyes trying to regain the lost oxygen.

"Humph! Serves you right for not letting me do it the slow way." Edward grumbled, but leaned back against Roy.

Roy chuckled into his ear, "So you want to go slow and gentle tonight? My, my, Edward, how you've changed over the years."

Edward hissed at him, but gave up and laughed. He was so happy to have Roy back. Even if he could not see the man, he could still be near him, touch him, and hear him. It put Ed to peace. Finally, after crazy homunculi, whacks from another world, doppelgangers with off personalities, scientists with weird fetishes for amputees, European wars, and a HUGE ass dragon, who wouldn't be happy to finally be home? Hell, he categorized the weirdness of his father in its own level. He could put Maslow's Hierarchy of Need to shame. To top off the fucking pyramid of Elric's Hierarchy of Weirdness was irony.

He worked for a colonel in the military at age 12.

He thought the colonel was handsome at age 14.

He found another reason why highly compressed air molecules forming a compact soundproof barrier came in handy at age 16. Oh boy, did he _love_ the reasoning on that one.

Silence consumed the two of them as they simply sat in peace. Edward was a little fidgety though. He felt anxious and worrisome. Too many thoughts were running around in little circles through his head. His processing became bogged down, trying to figure out his next step. Roy knew he was alive. Roy is in the military. The military tortures Roy. Thus, if the military tortures Roy for something suspicious, they could find out that he is once again considered alive. Right?

"You're thinking too hard. I told you, two plus two is four. It shouldn't be that hard for your _little_ mind anymore." Roy teased, rubbing his nose against Ed's neck.

Ed just hummed to him, not really hearing, which caught Roy off guard. He felt a tad hurt by being ignored, but he understood that if he was being ignored, it meant that whatever was on Ed's mind was a major situation. Nudging Ed's side slightly, he whispered into his ear, "What is bothering you?"

Edward sat there silently, his eyes unfocused. His right hand absently played with Roy's steel chains. His index finger swiped over a groove that caught his attention though. There on the underside of the bracelet, that carried the identification numbers, was a small symbol smoothly cut out. Pulling Roy's hand into both of his, he quickly ran his fingertips over it, muttering to himself the entire time. Roy looked on in confusion. Something was obviously not right and Edward still had not responded to him. "Edward?"

Grabbing both of Roy's hands into his he held them out in front of them, palms facing one another. Without ignition gloves or snapping, a ripple of flame sprung from Roy's fingers. They leaped between his hands. Edward was still muttering under his breath as if he was talking to someone not there. Roy was getting more worried by the second, but before he could utter a word, the flames turned blue and took on the symbol's shape.

"Alles ist ein. Ein ist alles." Edward spoke out loudly and clearly.

There in bright blue flames was the swastika.

* * *

Havoc groaned and stumbled into a chair. He cussed under his breath and rubbed them gently. _Lovely bloody time to lose feeling now_, he thought. Charles' water healing only let him get about six hours of time of feeling in his legs. Just enough feeling to concentrate on moving, otherwise he was restricted to a wheelchair. He twitched as a twinge of numbness began to spread.

"Legs still giving you a problem?" Alphonse walked over with a glass of water, handing it to the man in the chair.

"Yea, blasted things are going numb." He downed the water and leaned back into the chair.

"Hmm… I think I can help." Alphonse dug in his pocket to pull out a silver ring with a blood red looking jewel in the shape of a teardrop in the middle. He pulled out a second ring from his other pocket with the same design and slipped it onto his other hand. He rubbed his hands together. "This might pinch a bit," he clapped. Red sparks flew between his fingers, but he did not make a move towards Havoc.

Riza looked over Alphonse shoulder with Brenda at her side. Both of their curious gazes looked from Havoc to Alphonse's hands and back again. Havoc swallowed, "Are you going to touch me with _that_?"

Al clapped again, causing the sparks to get larger. "That's the plan," he gave a playful smiled before touching his hands to Havoc's knees. He chuckled, "And Jesus bent down to heal the crippled and ill."

Sparks of pain and pleasure and comfort and discomfort and so many more _feelings_ raced through Havoc's legs and spine. He felt like his mind would explode and his nerves were on fire. Al removed his hands once the sparks died. Havoc's world was spinning and realizing that there were defiantly _not_ five Al's in the room, that closing his eyes was the next best thing.

Al stood up and laughed soothingly, "And the people rejoiced."

Havoc's world stopped. He hissed and reached for his foot. "Bloody fuck, my foot hurts! Damn thing fell asleep on me…" His eyes grew to the size of small plates. "You are joking." He flung himself up onto his feet. He did a few jumps on the balls of his feet, then laughed loudly and swirled Hawkeye around in circles. "I got 'em back!"

The men rounded near Havoc. Congratulating and dancing with the delightfully cheery man. He was no longer sentenced to finishing his life in a wheelchair or day by day with the help of a strong healing alchemist that could only help him walk, not _feel_. Riza was the only one to look to Alphonse with deep, burning curiosity.

"Those rings, they're like the fake Philosophers Stone, right?"

Alphonse's grin faltered slightly, "Not quite."

That caught everyone's attention. "If they're not fake then that means…" Brenda started, but footsteps moving quickly down the stairs caught their attention.

Edward rushed into the room, but stopped in the threshold to listen where his brother might be. Roy appeared right behind him on Ed's heels. "Edward, what the hell has gotten into you?"

Ed found his brother's breathing pattern in the tight room and yanked on the boy's arm happily. "Ich habe sie gefunden!"

Unlike the other occupants in the room, Alphonse did not seem to be bother by the sudden _gibberish_ the young man spouted, but instead, replied in the same exact _gibberish_, "Wie?"

Reaching behind him and fumbling to find Roy's hand, he pulled the man in front of him and held out the silver chains to his brother. Flipping it over in his hand, he let Al tentatively glance over the symbol etched finely into the steel. "Defiantly them."

Al nodded more to himself than his blind brother, "Well, that narrows the field down for now." He looked up to the soldiers. "When are you all returning to your command?"

Falman was the closest to the clock on a nearby wall, "Here in about twenty minutes."

"Was nun?" Alphonse warily looked towards his brother.

"Sie sterben," Edward smiled menacing. Al sighed and nodded to himself again.

"What type of- _gibberish_ is that?" Roy interrupted the conversation between the two young Elrics.

Al smiled apologetically, "Sorry. It is called German or Deutsch. It's from that other world we explained to you." He waved it off as if it was nothing.

Havoc gave a weak grin, "Sounds cruel," he shivered.

Al and Ed laughed to themselves. "Aww, ich liebe dich." Edward cooed like a mother to her child in Havoc's direction.

Havoc took a careful step back, not sure if what the man said was going to kill him or if the man said something being disgusting with a manly _stick_. Either way, he did not want to take his chances, especially with a very _happy_ and _laughing_ Edward. Normally, when the name Edward and the adjective _happily_ meant the younger male was up to something. When there is cooing there is a _serious_ problem.

Alphonse laughed harder at the timid man's face. "It's alright," he broke up into a fit of laughter again. Calming himself down he explained, "All he said is I love you."

Havoc looked suspiciously between the two males before he decided to trust the man. "Those people must be," he stumbled for a word, "Brutal?"

"Well, they were extremely heavy drinkers and had an eye for brawls." Edward shrugged, smirking.

Roy pinched Ed's side, letting the boy know of his mock hurt due to his cooing of the other man. Edward knowing of the hidden meaning just smiled at Roy with fake apologies. Roy snorted quietly before another curiosity struck him. "What does that symbol mean?"

Al and Ed went suddenly silent and rigid. Al looked to his brother for some sort of indication on what to say, but the young man cleared his throat first, "Well, it's just-"

"It's nothing. Just an alchemy sign I was studying before we left." Edward interrupted him, an air of finality to him.

Before Roy could pester the man about it, Hawkeye started, "It's time for us to leave." The men in the room nodded and hoisted bags of medical supplies over their shoulders. Edward and Roy were the last two to stand in the room, nether moving.

Roy pulled the younger man close and kissed his cheek. "I will be back for you."

Edward nodded, "Do not worry. I think it is time to travel a bit." He squeezed Roy's hand firmly in his before walking out of the room to follow his brother.

* * *

Alles ist ein. Ein ist alles. = All is one. One is all.

Ich habe sie gefunden! = I have found them!

Wie? = How?

Was nun? = What now?

Sie sterben! = They die!

Ich liebe dich = Of course the ever popular 'I love you'.


	7. Saint Mary's Angel Goes Home

Author's Note: Sorry for the long wait. I've been having some home problems lately. I've finally got internet again for awhile at least and the story must go on! So tidbits here and there with a very large portion set aside to my dear Hans Hildebrand. I might give him salvation in the end. Who knows. so 'Roy's lady in red' has appeared and it seems our favorite man has been traumatized. **ATTENTION!!!** I'm looking for a beta for this story. I figured if someone out here likes my story and who is a reviewer, I'd let them have the job if they fit my qualifications. I wasn't too impressed with Fanfiction's choice on beta readers. It looked like everyone and their dog signed up for it. Leave me a private message on my page and I'll get back to you as soon as possible. Please DO NOT leave it in a review. I got tired of the lines across the page too so I'm trying out crappy period lines.  


* * *

Chapter 6:

Saint Mary's Angel Goes Home

Hans was not happy in the least. His hands were still wrapped in the tight, itching gauze and bandages. The palms ached from the skin stretching and the muscles underneath the flesh closing gaps. He ground his teeth together. Whoever was down that alley, he wanted dead. To feel the warm, gushing blood that flowed from the person's throat as he deftly ran his blade over the esophagus made him yearn to kill. Feeling the muted cries of pain after carefully removing or crushing the voice box made his stomach clench with excitement. He was not insane. Of course not. He was just a lover of the fine arts used with primal mediums.

Tugging his brown trench coat tighter around himself, he reached out under the overhanging to judge how heavy it poured down rain. It had not been long since it started, but it was a decent downpour already. No thunder or lightning, just darken clouds and the calming rhythm of rain on cobbles. Standing along the warehouse of a small diner, the wafting smells floated out. The musical sounds from a small radio played out with the mutterings of the few diners that dared this weather. Hans had to admit, he felt homesick with the nostalgic memories. The alleyway he hid in reminded him so much like home when he used to pick up his sister from her minor waitress job.

Blending into the scenery with his civilian clothes and the large brimmed hat, he slowly strolled over to the next overhanging. Leaning against the locked wooden door, the sound of music flowed over him louder. It was a slow, soothing tune, very unlike the joyous songs of the days before. Violins clashed with pianos as they formed into one long melody, pleasantly to the ears. It reminded him much of how he and his sister used to play together as children for their mother in the parlor. He eloquently played the piano, as his sister would make her violin sing some of the saddest of moods or the happiest rays of light.

Hans missed her dearly. She was older than he was and took care of him, or played with him when he was bored. They would split their daily bread with one another and spread the many jams or marmalades their mother would make. Hans was always a fun loving boy and would get into mischief while his sister would get him out of it. It was when they had both hit their early twenties when things changed. At first, it was nothing major, just a little cold or something. But then days dragged into weeks, weeks dragged into months, and finally months dragged into a couple of years. She became weak and sickly most of the time. The medication would fight it off for a few hours, sometimes a whole day if she kept relaxed and sat around.

He stayed by her side on her long bed ridden days, bringing her books and sneaking in small cakes he would get from the baker's wife down the street. When she was too ill to sit, he would read stories to her, speaking as gently as possible. When she could walk, he would idly be by her side, waiting for any signs of an attack. Hans would follow her down to the local cathedral where she would pray and feed the birds on the front steps. As her illness dragged on, he lost his playful nature giving way to a more stoic caregiver front. She, however, always smiled even in the worse of her attacks.

Hans nodded to the elderly couple that had just unhitched from their horse drawn cart who smiled and bowed their heads to him on the way into the diner, not seeing his face. He took the distraction of his thoughts to stride over to the opposite side of the alley where it was warmer. Furnace vents letting the hot air escape and roll down the brick wall giving off warmth. Tipping his hat to the side, he emptied the water that collected along the brim. Gazing with disinterest, he scanned his surroundings, slowly drifting back to his thoughts.

A Christmas chorus play was being held at the St. Mary Cathedral of Saints and his sister was dying to see it. Every time she was well enough, she would sit up and look at the fliers and pamphlets that were handed out on the street that he would bring home. Hans thought about it carefully, not wanting her out late or in the frigid cold weather that time of year. Their mother refused thoroughly and with the loss of their father in the war, she had become more worrisome and bothered.

One day, a few evenings before the chorus, his sister was again trying to beg their mother into letting them go. He strolled into the room with a large blue box topped with a silver bow. It was his first gift that he earned with his small paycheck he got as a newly recruited soldier following his father's footsteps. Kissing his mother on the cheek, he sat the present on his sister's blanket wrapped legs. He remembered the surprised look in her eyes as she ran her fingers over the shiny wrapping paper. With nimble fingers, he plucked the silver bow off the box and placed in on her platinum blond hair. He nodded to her to open it, and with thin, elegant fingers, she very carefully removed the paper. Lifting the lid, she squealed with happiness as she flung it to the edge of the bed and reached in to pull out the new thick, cotton crimson thigh-high pea coat.

She fumbled with the blankets and stood unsteadily on her feet as she pulled the coat on. He had to lean down some to reach all her buttons as he pushed them through the holes for her, since he towered over her. She spun herself around, never taking her eyes off the full-length mirror that sat in the corner of her room. Their mother was smiling and clasping her hands to her chest as she fawned over her little girl. With that, he was successfully able to take his sister, now bundled up warmly, to the chorus play. He remembered, as a small fond smile tugged at his mouth, the way his sister's eyes lit up with awe stricken joy during the performance. Then it happened.

She had not been allowed to get out of bed for two weeks straight. The medicine stopped helping. A doctor checked on her regularly until the end of the second week, where he pulled their mother into the hallway and with quiet mumbles, he quietly gave his blessings and apologies, and then left the house never returning. He remembered the quiet sobs his mother let out behind her solid wooden door to her room. His sister started to wake less, hardly touching her meals, and coughed up more blood than normal.

On a stormy March day with no thunder or lightning, just gray clouds and a constant drizzle, his darling sister with platinum blond hair and sparkling crystal azure eyes, Annelien Hildebrand, died from consumption, or tuberculosis.

Carefully fingering the silver encasing black cross that hung around his neck, he frowned. He softly growled to himself as he swayed on the balls of his heels. Leaning against the warm brick wall, he grew angry with himself for thinking of such things. He almost did not notice the flash of red that appeared in the diner across from him when his eyes slid shut. His eyes went wide once more, taking in the person's physical appearance. Startled, his mouth hung open. Dashing across the street, he quickly approached the diner.

. . . . .

Pushing her satin blond hair out of her face, she sipped her steaming cup of hot chocolate. Placing it back on the table before her, she bobbed the melted marshmallows with her spoon. She gently shifted her thick red coat over her shoulders. Her brother would be here in a few minutes after he finished last minute errands. Resembool was small, but it was quaint. As long as they all played out their roles, everything would go fine. The plan would move forward with ease and everything would work out perfectly for them. That is how it had to be. Perfect.

Light blue eyes darted to the piece of pie that lay before her on the table. It had been awhile since she had something sweet. It would be a nice change of pace. Getting out of the stuffy house would also be a nice change. That would not be the only change of pace occurring. She could feel the set of eyes on her, setting her skin aflame. She smacked her lips. Time to drag in the bait.

. . . . .

Roy once again lay on his cot unmoving with his eye glued to the dirt-laden floor. He watched little dirt devils flare up when a small, wet breeze would flutter in from the flaps. That tattered remains of his shirt sat with haunting shrieks from the hours before. Blood stained the shreds of fabric. Another breeze fluttered in and swept across his sweat stained back, stomach tucked protectively against the cot.

The raging Hildebrand had punished him again, though not as torturous as normal since the man's hands were still scored through. Very little pain had been inflicted and he hardly twitched, which provoked the other man fiercely. Hildebrand was in a fiery rage that, with himself unconscious for a night, Mustang seemed to gain all of his self-confidence once more. Mustang successfully commanded the battalion of men out in the field like the born leader he was and even did a better job than Hildebrand himself could.

He reached for a small wooden box out from under the cot no larger than a deck of playing cards. Nestled inside the wooden walls were about two dozen marble shaped silvery steel balls that glistened up at him. He dumped three of them onto the floor where they wobbled. With uncovered fingertips, he flicked at them, sending them in different directions. With a lazy drag of his fingers, he etched an array into the dirt. Pressing his fingers to it, blue light flowed calmly sending the metal balls rolling towards it. He flicked them off again and then tapped the array; repeating the process thoughtlessly in a steady rhythmic pattern.

A shadow that lay under the not-present-Fuery's bed took the shape of a small, furry creature. It darted out, snagged one of the balls into its jaws, and carried it back to him. Roy smiled fondly at the critter. He had secretly gotten used to these small games. The shadows would take a form of something small and then play with him in the quiet confines of the tent. It had only started when they had finally returned to the camp two nights previous on their supply hunt, but he welcomed the small amusement. This time the creature looked like a ferret, while the night before looked like a rabbit. He could guess where his playful shadows came from and that they were a sign of his undoubted protector, silently trying to make amends for not being able to take out the major threat immediately.

He flicked off another marble across the floor and the ferret followed. The critter stood on his hind legs before dashing to the near shadows that consumed it, giving warning of visitors. Light boot steps signaled the return of Charles and Hawkeye for another redressing of his wounds. As what had become routine by now, he did not respond. Roy simply laid there with one covered eye and the other ash-black eye seeming dead to the world. Small, round marks spotted his back leaving torn flesh in its wake over emaciated muscles with sharp, profound bones protruding. Charles sighed and discussed with Hawkeye to wake Mustang up every hour on the hour if the man happened to fall asleep. With the lack of blood he spilled and the possible concussion, it was the only method to check the man. The two gave one last look to Mustang and left silently into the mid-afternoon breeze.

A soft lick of comfort was placed on his cheek. Rubbing its nose to Roy's, the ferret gave his playmate a once over to check for possible damage that would keep them from playing. Seeming that the man was okay enough to play fetch, it darted over Roy's head in one large bound, rubbed noses once more, and then hit the dusty floor waiting for a ball to be thrown.

Roy smiled at the creature and patted its head. Understanding what his silent companion wanted, he reached for two of silver marbles again. Rolling them to the far side of the tent, Roy watched the little fellow scurry after them. Roy chuckled to himself as he watched the ferret's back two legs move faster than his front legs causing the small critter to tumble forward.

Roy's eyelids started to fall after a good twenty minutes of play. His movements became sluggish and his breathing settled into a calm rhythm. The ferret realizing his playtime was done; he collected all of the silver marbles into the wooden box and tucked it carefully under Roy's cot. Partially climbing Roy's arm and jumping the other half onto the cot, he rubbed noses again, then decided to clean Roy's face, putting the man to a restful sleep.

. . . . .

Russell switched between feet on the cobbled corner. Saying that he was agitated was putting it lightly. He was _livid_. Not only was Edward's _old_ lover around again, Edward, himself, had been slightly ignoring him. They had been doing perfectly fine until _he_ showed up. Russell had even won some of Edward's affection. They had created a bond while Russell had nursed Edward back to health.

Russell snorted to himself. Like hell, that man should be Edward's lover. He was not even here to take care of the poor, defenseless boy. Logic was out the window currently. Of course, Roy would not have known Edward had returned without some sort of message, but that did not matter. However, _he_ had been there. He had taken care of Edward's eyes as they cried blood. He had been there to spoon feed Edward stew. He had been there by Edward's bedside all night as the boy slept to fight off his nightmares. All Mustang had to do was walk into the house and Edward was all over him. _Hmph. Damn Flaming One-eye Pony._

If anyone should get Edward's undivided affection, it should be him. Not that _Flaming Pony_. He could feel his lower lip jut out some in a childish pout, but he did not care. With his arms crossed over his chest, his foot started tapping. Edward should be _his_, not _Mustang's_. Like everything else wrong in his life, it was the military's fault; one big, easy group to blame. It made life easier.

Russell grinned to himself on the street corner waiting for his brother to bring the needed supplies out of the store. He knew what he had to do and he would do anything to make sure he got what he wanted.

Operation: _My Edward_ was now commencing!

. . . . .

Alphonse grumbled to himself. Staring at the town below his feet as water pounded down on him. He would never understand _why_ he always took to rooftops. He grimaced; maybe his brother was finally rubbing off on him. Now that was defiantly not something he could quite picture. Next thing he would know, him and his brother would be fighting over the Colonel's bed. Alphonse's shudder almost tossed him over the edge of the roof. Not that Mustang was not an attractive man! Just, Mustang was his brother's and that was that. _Snort._

Alphonse jumped rooftop-to-rooftop watching alleyways carefully and planning out the city with locations on where the military spies were. These Intelligence men were quite _un-_intelligent. They were so easy to track; he could have let Granny Pinako do this for him. Out in the cold; the rain; the harsh wind; _Sneeze! Fuck my life._

Oh yes, ladies and gentlemen, Alphonse the innocent little boy was infected with his older brother's dirty sailor's mouth. Cussing was just a form of _colorful_ language such as memoirs are a _colorful_ literature genre. Yeah, and pigs can fly.

Al ruffled his already tousled short hair, spiking it more. Why was he the one to be stuck out in the rain chasing after not even low-class so called spies in the quiet town? Why? Because his brother had asked him _nicely_. He even added a _please_ on the end. It scared Al enough to high tail it out of the house. Something was different with Edward and he had a very good idea what. Now that Roy was back, and with both Edward and Roy back to being teenagers in a sappy romance novel, he was sure there were going to be problems, especially with one mister Tringham. Al sighed to himself. He was going to need a bunch of paper, ink, and a typewriter. This would make one good love triangle tale. If he could toss Havoc in there with a bottle of Scotch, the book would make the top five best sellers within a week.

A flash of red caught the corner of his eye. It seemed that it was finally show time.

* * *

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